


difference in opinion (was never an issue)

by sleeplessflower



Category: Hemlock Grove
Genre: M/M, Season/Series 01, its a scene that happens in-episode, roman is jealous, uhh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-20
Updated: 2017-09-20
Packaged: 2018-12-31 23:02:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12143022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sleeplessflower/pseuds/sleeplessflower
Summary: What does Peter want with his cousin? No, he knows the answer to that. He knows what Peter wants with his cousin. Just like every other guy, he wants her. It’s that simple. It always is. They always get close to Roman, buddy up like they’re friends and then the next fucking second they’re trying to bone Letha. Like Roman is a hurdle. Like he’s nothing.What about that night? Roman asks himself, asks Peter in his mind. Asks Peter in real life, if her weren’t such a coward. Did that night mean nothing?-or-some scenes in s1e5 i wanted to write Roman's perspective of?





	difference in opinion (was never an issue)

**Author's Note:**

> title is from cigarettes in the the theater by two door cinema club  
> im just depresst abt season three ending yall so i needed to write this  
> i was rewatching and h oly shit roman is so young?? peter is so young?? heck  
> anyway of couse roman would be that dude whre he sleeps w peter once and then is in love  
> but also roman is a dick so ofcourse he'd be agressive

They get into the car, and Roman can’t get it out of his head. What does Peter want with his cousin? No, he knows the answer to that. He knows what Peter wants with his cousin. Just like every other guy, he wants her. It’s that simple. It always is. They always get close to Roman, buddy up like they’re friends and then the next fucking second they’re trying to bone Letha. Like Roman is a hurdle. Like he’s nothing. 

_ What about that night?  _ Roman asks himself, asks Peter in his mind. Asks Peter in real life, if her weren’t such a coward.  _ Did that night mean nothing? _

It takes almost five minutes before Roman decides to pipe up.

 

“So, did you and my cousin have a pleasant lunch?” His tone isn’t happy, but Peter still smiles. Roman looks away. “Huh?”

“Nutrition!” Peter bants back, over the hum of the engine, the wash of the wind. Is he deaf? Roman could not have sounded any less happy, and Peter’s trying to joke around? “They don’t call it lunch anymore.” He grins, faltering when Roman doesn’t respond. “Roman. Hey.” He looks over, watches Roman wipe the hair out of his face. “She pities me.” Roman clenches his fist on the stick, shifting gears. Sure she fucking does.

“Yeah, she’s all heart.” he faces to speak to Peter, looks him in the eyes. Roman makes sure Peter sees the look on his face, the look in his eyes. He hopes Peter’s intimidated. He slowly turns his gaze back to the road, and Peter lets himself linger for a moment, to keep his eyes on Roman -- he can feel it, like a branding iron -- before looking forward as well. 

Roman opens his mouth, as if to say something,--  _ go fuck yourself, I thought we had something, was all this meaningless, you’re a fucking coward Peter Rumancek, take your stupid fucking face ad leave me alone --  _ and Peter’s quick to let his eyes trail back, to glance in Roman’s direction. He closes his mouth.

 

They sit in silence.

 

A woman -- pretty, brunette, nice bra --  answers the door almost as soon as Peter’s finished knocking. When she opens it, she pulls Peter in for a hug, kissing him on the cheek. Roman raises his eyebrows. ‘You’re his only friend’ Roman’s ass.

“Peter! Hi!” She almost squeals, and Roman catches the glance Peter throws his way -- this is awkward. “Come in, I’ll be just a second.” 

Roman looks around her apartment -- it’s so small, so tacky -- and observes as the woman ushers a portly man out the door, talking to him about mindfulness and refined sugars. When the door closes, she’s as smug as a cat.

“Another happy customer?” Peter remarks.

“Crushed a couple blue pills in his tea.” the woman says, “And the sugar thing is just common sense.”

“Like when your doctor tells you to stop smoking.” Roman adds.

“One size fits all.” Destiny replies, quickly moving to Peter, pulling him in for another hug. As soon as she pulls back, Peter’s making eye contact with Roman, like a ship pulling back to the harbor. And Roman’s mind chimes in, it says,  _ Letha, remember, you were never important to him,  _ and Roman looks at the floor, back up when Peter speaks.

“This is my cousin, Destiny.” Peter’s still maintaining eye contact with Roman, but Destiny isn’t. She’s looking him up and down, with an expression that’s less than welcome. Roman stills. She’s giving him this look like she knows what he’s thinking. She can’t

“I’m Roman,” he begins, sticking out his hand, to initiate a handshake. Destiny plucks it from where it was, hovering by his hip, and observes it closely. “See anything interesting?” He asks, unsure. She doesn’t say a word.

Destiny looks up, thrusting Roman’s hand back down with an indignant sound. Roman frowns. Does - what would destiny disapprove of? Gadjo surely aren’t that bad, are they? 

“You gentlemen have something for me?” She beams, smiling when Peter takes a box of candy out of the paper bag he’s been holding. She opens the box and places several of the candies into her mouth -- talk about watching the refined sugars. 

Peter then takes a jar out of the bag -- Roman hates looking at it -- and places it on the table, and instantly Destiny’s mood changes.

“Just tell me why this is better than running.” It isn’t a question. Hell, it’s a rhetorical at best.  _ Because we need to do this,  _ Roman thinks, but he doesn’t speak. He feels out of place here, and considering all the looks Destiny is throwing him Roman doesn’t exactly feel welcomed, either.

“Fucked if I can, Dee.” Peter flicks back, and he’s not joking at all.

 

Destiny opens the jar and takes a sniff, and her face says everything Roman already knows. She makes a ‘mmm!’ noise, and Peter chuffs lightly. She thrusts the jar in Peter’s face with a silly noise, and Peter takes it as she dashes into the next room to -- get something? Roman isn’t sure. Peter looks around, eventually making eye contact with Roman. When they do, she shrugs, and moves into the next room, and Roman follows -- he always would --, just in time to see Destiny place something -- a bug? -- into the open jar.

“Sorry buddy,” she says to the bug, closing the lid of the jar. “Bon appetit.” Roman looks between the two of them, waiting for an explanation. 

“How long should we let it sit?” Peter asks, like he knows what’s going on.

“Overnight, for good measure.” Destiny says like, she too, knows what’s going on. Then her face lights up, and she smiles. “We’ll need tequila.”

“Is that part of it?” Roman asks.

“No.” Destiny replies, her tone hostile. She looks back at Peter. “Uh. something in a pretty bottle. Silver’s good.”

“You got it.”

And Destiny’s ushering them out the door, with the jar, waving Peter off -- not before giving him a hug, of  _ course. _ And they get back into Roman’s car. 

 

They sit in silence.

And the whole time all Roman can think is  _ why didn’t she tell me what was on my palm? Was it bad? Why didn’t she tell me what she saw. _

“Why didn’t she tell me what she saw in my palm?” he breaks the silence. Peter seems to know what’s going on.

“‘Cause it doesn’t work like that.” Peter’s looking out the window, and Roman takes a moment to admire -- he feels like that isn’t the right word. Peter has that kind of rugged woodland, back-to-nature beauty that makes Roman want to fuck him in the woods, but also unfurls the animalistic uge that wants to pull Peter’s hair back and shave his face, to cut his hair, to see him clean and proper, to be so unlike the filthy animal he is.

“Oh, I didn’t realise i had to grease your whore cousin like the rest of the rubes.” Roman throws back, his mind whipping like a bungee cord back to Letha. None of that is possible because apparently Peter’s not into him anymore. “Whore as in like, literal description. I’m a fucking feminist.” he says, in defense. It’s true.

“What you want isn’t for sale. Destiny doesn’t trade real magic for money.” Peter responds, his tone flat. Roman bristles.  _ Why fucking not?  _

“She trades everything else.” Roman has this habit of turning from the road, to look at someone when they speak. He sees, as he turns, minutely, Peter stiffen.

“It’s not the same.” he’s looking out the window, and Roman gets the urge to grab Peter’s face.  _ Fucking look at me when you’re speaking to me. _ If he wants it to be that way, it’ll be that way.

Roman turns the radio up. The frustration, tension, anger -- on Roman’s part -- boils and simmers, thickening to a paste. Roman imagines, for a moment, lashing out. How Peter would lash back. How Roman would pull over -- Peter would be yelling it, scared for his safety, roman’s looking more at him than the road -- and Peter would crowd his space. How things would escalate. He hardly hears Peter when he next speaks.

“Women do what they do, that’s the hell of it.” he’s still faced away, obviously not caring if he’s heard over the radio or not.

“What?”

“Women  _ do  _ what they  _ do.  _ That’s the hell of it.” Peter repeats, and Roman half-gets it. Destiny will do what she is going to do. Roman can’t change that. That doesn’t quell his annoyance. But it’s a nice try. A rosebud of hope slowly begins to bloom in Roman’s chest. Maybe he can win Peter back.

“Shieet.” He adds, looking over a Peter for a short moment before stopping himself. He’s not looking for Peter’s approval. “I think my Manipura needs nourishment.”

And Roman pauses, waiting for a reply. He’s almost about to say something else before Peter starts laughing. And Roman finds himself laughing, too. 

“That’s ridiculous.” he can feel Peter’s eyes on him, and looks at Peter’s hand, sees his hand shift, momentarily, twitching in Roman’s direction. He has to pause for a moment, remember where they’re driving to.

**Author's Note:**

> im just going to write more smut bye


End file.
